


if heaven’s grief brings hell’s rain, then I’d trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday

by wearealltalesintheend



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Vietnam War, World War I, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-11 01:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12311526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearealltalesintheend/pseuds/wearealltalesintheend
Summary: Grantaire and Enjolras, through chance and new lifes and new beginnings, getting it wrong until they get it right.or, life is a snake eating its own tail, and history repeats itself in tragedy, and breaking the pattern is both harder and easier than it should be.





	if heaven’s grief brings hell’s rain, then I’d trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> I have literally no explanation except sometimes you get an itching at 3am and if you don't write it out of your system, it might choke your lungs with black ink and burnout energy.

 

_ i) _

 

The first time, it’s confusing and fumbling and stumbling in the dark. They are at the edge of the world, at the start of a moment.

 

It’s not a place for chance and love and understanding, not really.

 

But it’s a place for fate and destiny and tragedy all the same.

 

The first time, they don’t realize until there’s blood on the ground and tears in the corner of their eyes and an ache in their chest and loss and death.

 

It’s too late and too soon and not enough.

 

They don’t get it, not really, this first time. It’s confusing and it’s bloody and it’s over before it begins.

 

It’s hands touching and a jolt of realization and-

 

*

 

_ ii) _

 

The second time around, it’s sometime between the future and the past.

 

It’s better and it’s worse, because they live until their skin is wrinkling and there’s laughter lines in their eyes but there’s an empty space somewhere between their ribs, a vacancy in their hearts and a longing for something unknown.

 

The second time, they don’t find each other.

 

Enjolras is somewhere in the United Kingdom and Grantaire is lost in the Indias, and for both of them life is a soft kind of tragedy.

 

It’s only the second time.

 

*

 

_ iii) _

 

Third is supposed to be the charm, but they don’t even know the count.

 

So maybe, that’s why.

 

It’s bloody just like the first time, and it’s full of despair for a war larger than the world itself. It’s grim and dirty and dark; it’s the end of the world, people whisper.

 

And there they are, scared out of their minds and hungry and hurting.

 

And in opposite sides of a battlefield.

 

Third time's the charm, and maybe that’s why they die only after meeting eyes across no man’s land.

 

The bullet is a vicious sort of kindness.

 

*

 

_ iv) _

 

They walk by on the street.

 

A head turning to look, blond curls fading in the crowd, green scarf fluttering in the wind, a spark of something-

 

They turn different corners.

 

*

 

_ v) _

 

Another war, the war to end all wars.

 

Humanity rotting in the trenches, evil poisoning camps of corpses. 

 

It’s a terrible time to be alive.

 

It’s no place for hope or peace or kindness or love.

 

There’s only hate and desperation and pain and death.

 

They say they are building some apocalyptic weapon, some kind of bomb that will end this wretched war and take the world with it.

 

This life they are on the same side, but Grantaire falls somewhere in Italy while Enjolras is starving in the Russian Winter.

 

But they do meet, in London, before being shipped off to different countries. It’s something they hold onto in the worst of the days, but it’s not enough to keep them alive.

 

It’s becoming a pattern with them.

 

*

 

_ x) _

 

_ Make love, not war. _

 

The signs are everywhere.

 

It’s in the protests down the streets, with the students with starry eyes and soul shining with hope and steps confident with the certainty of changing the world. 

 

There are so much naivety in their shouts and banners, Grantaire almost weeps. These kids haven’t yet turned bitter like him.

 

But these kids don’t have a government issued letter, with their names on it and a one way ticket to hell.

 

They aren’t going to ‘Nam in a few weeks.

 

They are soft and naive and toeing the line between brave and stupid.

 

He takes a swing from his bottle, looks out his window, he can make out blurry figures marching down main street-

 

-a flash of red coat flapping in the wind, golden curls reflecting the sun, words of order and justice and-

 

-Grantaire closes his curtain, drinks until he can’t make out his name in the black bold letters.

 

*

 

_????) _

 

The protest against the new president is loud and manic and urgent in the way all things are now, and Grantaire hates it.

 

Maybe it’s the despondent kind of nihilism after a bad night talking, but he pretends he loathes the optimistic bullshit all the same.

 

This time around there isn’t some grand war or revolution teetering on the edge of their minds, there is no blood in their hands.

 

This time, it’s just them and everything that could happen.

 

Enjolras is standing in the middle of campus, distributing fliers for his political club and he has his entire life laid out before him. It’s just the start of the rest of his life. He stands tall and proud and full of hope and energy.

 

Grantaire walks around, pretending he isn’t a freshman, he isn’t scared shitless, he isn’t fucking up this chance at a good life. He walks around and he breathes the air and feels the electricity of new beginnings buzzing underneath his skin.

 

It’s the beginning of the school year, and they meet in a confusing and stumbling and fumbling mess, but it’s fine, because this is the time for hope and chance and fate and time and love.

 

They meet and they hate and they loathe and they argue and it’s terrible and awful and painful, and it’s exhilarating and new and challenging and amazing. So they meet and they hate and they argue and they understand and they fall.

 

It’s beautiful and complicated and it’s theirs. 

 

This time around, they get it right in the way they never had the time.

 

All roads lead to Rome, and they’re starting at the end.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hey, leaving comments and kudos are always nice, or you can talk to me on [my tumblr.](http://wearealltalesintheend.tumblr.com/)
> 
> and hey? thanks.


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